


The Hobbit's Unexpected Love

by Jakinickster



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Slow Build, Slow Burn, and Bilbo, first everything here folks woops, mature themes(sex) later on therefore it is not rated M yet but it will be, please don't run away thinking this will forever be a T fic, rewriting the hobbit, very in character Thorin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-17
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:10:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jakinickster/pseuds/Jakinickster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo went on an adventure, and had doubts along the way, but not just about himself, about something else entirely. What was he to make of growing feelings for a certain Dwarf King?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> okay, so basically it's explained in the tags that this will be a VAGUE rewrite of the hobbit (jackson's movie version, obv :p) and some things will obviously be changed to further bilbo and thorin's relationship. i would really love it if you guys could rec this story and get it noticed. I'll be working hard on it and reviews really fuel me to write. :)

Dwarves. They were a stubborn kind, indeed. Very hard headed, and quick tempered. They loved their gold, their riches and above all, they cherished their women. Their women were in scarce numbers and for that, needed protection. Not much to say about them, really. They were proud as well, very much so and still are, for the most part. But one could only stay so proud without a place to call home... anymore. The dwarves' once home—Erebor, destroyed nearly 200 years ago, was now being sought out, again, but this time by it's rightful inhabitants. So many yearned for their mountain, but only few—thirteen to be exact, would take the necessary precautions to take back Erebor, and claim what was, and is rightfully theirs.

Who knew that, one day, a hobbit from The Shire—Bag End for specifics, would help such a haughty race take back their home. The two were so very opposite but so very similar in more ways than one, but weren't most races? A happier, more calm race of the very many in Middle Earth are the hobbits. A happy, gentle folk, and the only thing they loved was... well, were many things. But a nice pipe on a cool day in The Shire was what one would see and expect there, and lots of laughter and joy, but nothing out of the ordinary. No, nothing unexpected ever happened there, and that was how it was and always should be, yes.

But not for one hobbit in particular. This hobbit went by the name Bilbo Baggins, and as he sat on his bench outside his hole and blew his smoke rings—quite big, they were—he never would have guessed that he would be going on an adventure. He was quite happy with his life, as dull as others thought it might be, he enjoyed himself. All the food he could eat, and no one to bother him unless he invited them over. He did rather enjoy company, however, only if they came by his accord. No unexpected visitors for him.

And as that was, he sat against his bench without a worry in the world, not having realized the large figure standing in front of his gate yet, until he opened his eyes to a puff of tobacco smoke. His nose scrunched up and he looked up, and up until he saw the pointy grey hat and long beard. He had no idea who it was—definitely not from around here, and so he greeted them kindly but cautiously. 

“Good morning.” Bilbo said and took another puff of his tobacco. 

“What do you mean?” The large man asked. “Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or, are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?”

Bilbo didn't know what to make of this. “All of them at once I suppose.” And he thought maybe the large man would be on his way, but there he stood, unmoving. “Can I help you?” He asked.

“That remains to be seen.” The tall one mumbled, eying him. “I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Bilbo blinked. “An adventure?” An adventure? This old traveler must have hit his head on his way here! “Now I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures.” He said and got up to grab his mail. “Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner.” He popped his pipe back in his mouth to have another drag while he looked through his mail, occasionally peering back up at the figure staring down at him. Bilbo hoped he'd get the message as he walked up the trail to his hole, but he didn't want to seem rude, so he told the man in a rush, “Good morning!” And hurried up the steps.

“To think that I should have lived to be good morning'd by Belladonna Took's son. As if I was selling buttons at the door!”

Bilbo stopped and turned. “I beg your pardon?” Who was this man and how did he know his mother?

“You've changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins.” The old one said, and Bilbo's eyebrows furrowed together. “I'm sorry, do I know you?” 

“Well you know my name, though you don't remember that I belong to it. I am Gandalf! And Gandalf means.... me!” 

The name did ring a bell, Bilbo thought, and suddenly he remembered the fireworks the same man—well, wizard, would have on midsummer's eve! How could he have forgotten! “Not Gandalf the wandering Wizard who made such excellent fireworks! Old Took used to have them on midsummer's eve! Had no idea you were still in business...” Exactly how old was Gandalf anyway? Bilbo thought safe to assume older than anyone he'd ever have the pleasure of meeting.

“And where else should I be?” Gandalf seemed offended, and rightfully so. 

Bilbo simply cleared his throat in an awkward silence and took another puff of his pipe. 

“I am pleased to see you remember something about me, even if it is only my fireworks.... Well, that's decided! This will be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others.” And Gandalf was off, much to his dismay. The others? What others? He didn't like the sound of that at all. 

“Inform who?” Bilbo asked, almost annoyed at the wizard's vague way of speaking. “Wait! We do not want any adventures here! Thank you! Not today!” And he hurried into his hole, holding the door opened as he stumbled through his words. “I suggest you try over the hill or across the water..” Bilbo stepped inside. “Good morning!” He finally said, before closing the door and resting against it with a long exhale of breath.

 

-

 

After that incident, all seemed back to the way it should be—no nonsense and silly mentions of adventures or anything of the sort. Bilbo had even gone out to buy himself supper, and when he got home he cooked and began to ate and everything was wonderful. Until he heard the ring of his doorbell, which made him look up slowly. Now who on middle earth could that be? 

“At this hour?” Bilbo grumbled, but got up and greeted who he thought would be the wizard or... well, anybody but a dwarf. And a big one at that, quite tall for a dwarf. 

“Hello?” He greeted, clearly confused. 

“Dwalin.” The dwarf bowed. “At your service.” And he walked in, threw his cape at him and what not before trotting around his house. “Which way, laddie?” 

“What?” Bilbo asked.

“Supper! He said there'd be food.” Dwalin followed the way Bilbo led, on to the table where he was just sitting to eat his supper. Bilbo would bet any amount of food he had that the dwarf referred to that blasted wizard! 

Dwalin helped himself, scarfing down every last bit of food on the plate, and even asked for more. Bilbo stood by, stuffing some of the food in his pockets so that he'd have some left! He was flabbergasted, and he thought hobbits had big appetites...

_Ding-a-ling-a-ling!_

Bilbo's head spun around to the door. “Who could that be?” He mumbled to himself.

“That'll be the door.” Dwalin said with a mouth full of food.

He went and opened it for his second guest, another dwarf, a lot shorter than the first and with a beard as white as snow. “Balin, at your service.” The dwarf bowed.

“Good evening.” Bilbo greeted, and he wondered just how many dwarves would be in his home at the end of the night. 

“Ah, yes. Though I think it might rain later.” Balin said. “Am I late?”

“Late for what?” Bilbo watched as the old dwarf walked past him and immediately found Dwalin. They were brothers, apparently. The last thing he wanted at this hour was a family gathering of dwarves.

At first it was one, then two and then there were four. Two more dwarves, however easier on the eyes, stood on his door step.

“Kili!” One said. “And Fili!” The other said. “At your service!” They said together as they bowed in unison. Bilbo held his hands up, interrupting the one. “You must be Mister Boggins!” 

“No, no! You're at the wrong house! No one by the name of Boggins lives here, I ass-” 

“What?!” Kili pushed his way past the door, making way for his brother as well. The two walked in as if it were their house! Bilbo frowned. “Has it been canceled?” Kili asked, eyes wide and Fili looked at him as well. 

“What? No! Nothing's been canceled!” 

“Oh, that's a relief!” Kili said, smiling so brightly that Bilbo almost found himself smiling back, but caught himself when Dwalin came over and grabbed Kili and led him and Fili into the dining room. They mentioned making room for the others, and really, he thought four was quite enough. Too many dwarves and his pantry would be pillaged of everything he had. 

Four did seem like a lot. They were loud, already setting up the chairs at the table and moving his stuff! But … when the door bell rang this time, he reluctantly answered it, throwing the things Fili had given him—more like thrown at him—onto the floor, and stood there at the door with his mouth opened. The dwarves, however many, flew in and Bilbo just barely stepped back fast enough so as to not get caught underneath them all. They yelled and one by one got up, nodding him off and making their way through his place. Bilbo looked back to the door way, only to see not another dwarf, but Gandalf.

“Gandalf...”

 

-

 

Within five minutes, his pantry was cleaned out, there were mud tracks all over the floor. They'd done something to his toilet and he didn't know how, but they managed to break the handle off. Bilbo was livid, but kept enough cool to greet the nicer ones that walked by—two with a lack of beards, one with very intricate grey braids in his beard and the other with a large mustache, they were all nice, but still making a mess of his home! 

“Excuse me! That is a doily, not a dish cloth!” Bilbo practically yelled as one with red, pointy shaped hair went to use his mother's doily. 

He was far past getting them to put his food back, it was all half eaten anyways. But as he stood around, hands on his hips and dwarves everywhere in sight, he couldn't help but curse under his breath. 

The night dragged on, and before he knew it he had his mother's plates being thrown around as the twelve dwarves sung a rather catchy, but irritating tune.

_That's what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

Bilbo grumbled, and went to sit. He couldn't handle much more of it or he'd lose what little of his mind he had left. He collected himself, not having noticed that all of them had actually cleaned most of the mess they had made. It didn't make a difference, the damage was already done.

_Bang, Bang, Bang!_

His head shot up. No. Bilbo got up, headed for the door and opened it for fourth time tonight. To his amazement, it was only one dwarf. And far more sociable, Bilbo could tell, just by looking at him. But that thought quickly left him when the dwarf looked down at him, eyes dark and expression anything but friendly. Bilbo felt intimidated, and stepped over to let him in.

“Thorin Oakenshield.” He said, dark hair falling over his face as he bowed. “At your service.” 

Bilbo nodded. “Ah, uhm.” He cleared his throat, ready to give his name.

“Ah! My dear fellow!” Gandalf came through, head bowed as he greeted Thorin.“You finally made it.”

“I would have missed it, if it weren't for that mark on the door.” Thorin unclasped his cape, folding it in his hands as he turned to Bilbo. “And what do you go by?” 

Bilbo looked around, as if he didn't know the dwarf was speaking to him. He stuttered over his words, and for once, he could thank the wizard.

“This, my friend, is Bilbo Baggins! Your assigned burglar.” Gandalf introduced. “And Bilbo, allow me to introduce you to the leader of our company; Thorin Oakenshield.” The dwarf came close to him upon their proper introduction, and Bilbo suddenly felt very nervous. “So. This is the hobbit.” Thorin looked amused, for whatever reason Bilbo didn't care to know, really. 

The dwarf suddenly circled him. “Tell me, Mister Baggins. Have you done much fighting?”

“Excu-”

“Axe or sword? What is your weapon of choice?” Thorin stopped in front of him, arms crossed.

“Well, I do have some skill in conkers if you must know!” Bilbo seemed proud. “But... how is any of this relevant?” 

“Thought as much.” Thorin grinned and turned around. “Seems more like a grocer than a burglar.” The lot of them laughed, except Gandalf, who looked rather annoyed. Bilbo didn't know what to make of it all. This important person comes in, along with his company, and practically insults him. Though he really didnt know what this burglar business was all about, but he knew Gandalf had something to do with it.

All thirteen, and Gandalf sat at the table, and Bilbo stood off to the side of Thorin, listening in as they all talked of a dragon and gold and orcs and what not, things he didn't understand. It did spark his interest, though. He didn't much fit into the conversation, but when Gandalf spoke of needing someone with stealth, someone who was careful and clever, and one of the younger dwarves spoke up.

“That's why we need a burglar!” Ori added in.

“And a good one too! An expert I'd imagine.” Bilbo thumbed his suspenders,

“And are you?” Gloin propositioned.

“Am I what?” Bilbo asked, confused. He had no idea what they were all going on about when they sat down, just that they needed someone with certain qualities he was sure were scarce to find anywhere in The Shire. 

“I don't think Mister Baggins is much of an expert at all.” Thorin spoke up, and Bilbo looked down with his arms crossed. “I beg your pardon? Oh, no, no. I'm not a burglar at all!” And with that, the dwarves began arguing. They pointed fingers at eachother accusingly, yelling back and forth until a loud noise erupted.

Gandalf stamped his staff on the floor and cleared is throat. He stood up, and that alone caused everybody to stop what they were doing and pay attention. “Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar he is!”

The lot quieted down after his outburst, and Bilbo went to find a stool to sit on. They all continued on, and one thing led to the other and he was handed—more like thrown a large piece of paper. “What is this?” He asked.

“A contract, laddie. You'd best read over it if you're to be a part of the company.” Balin said.

Bilbo read it over, inspecting every last bit right down to the incineration. He stared the word down like it was the bane of his existence. His foot tapped against the wooden floor, and he looked up after a good few minutes of looking it over. “I ..”

“Yes?” Bofur leaned on the table. 

Thorin had turned around and stood up, looking at the hobbit much to his dismay. All he needed were those glaring eyes on him while he tried to get the words out. He choked, couldn't quite get the words out as he looked at those intimidating words. “I, uh,” 

“Sleep on it, hobbit.” Thorin pushed his chair in. “We leave on sun rise tomorrow morning.” 

 

-

And he did, or tried at least. Bilbo found himself thinking about anything and everything as he laid in his bed, wrapped up in his blankets. About the getting burnt to bits part mostly, and everything such an adventure entailed, was overwhelming just to think on. Bilbo got up, throwing the blankets off and decided he'd make himself a small pot of tea to better relax for a good nights rest, he'd need it, after all.

He lit the fire under the pot—there was still water inside from a little bit ago, so he sat down on the floor, away from all the dwarves. Most were asleep on chairs, resting their heads on his table. One was even curled up under the table, how uncomfortable, Bilbo thought. Something tugged at his heart when he eyed every last one, seeing how they were without home, without a place to call their own, and suddenly, Bilbo couldn't do nothing. 

His tea was steaming from the pot, and he removed it from the fire carefully and poured it into a cup. He relaxed against a wall, letting a deep sigh roll from his chest. 

“Can't sleep?” A voice broke through his thoughts and he nearly spilled his tea. “Oh!” Bilbo saw as Thorin walked into view, pipe in hand. 

“Care for a cup?” He offered, hoping he would decline, really. He didn't much take to him, he was a scary, rude fellow who had a tendency for staring. Bilbo felt like a bundle of nerves every time he fell a victim of Thorin's heavy stares, but did well in hiding it, he thought.

“Aye.” Thorin agreed, and moved to sit beside the hobbit.

Bilbo poured him a cup and handed it over. He hoped if he did decide to go on this adventure, that he and Thorin would at least find better company with each other than what lingered between the two as of right now. It was unpleasant and he really did want to get up and leave, but he had more hospitality than that, even for the dwarf that showed him none. Not another word was spoken between the two, and morning came but a few hours later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin's company finds themselves in Rivendell. Thorin and Bilbo finally talk. Alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another chapter another day. i hope everything is good and enjoyable!

It was early morning, and Bilbo awoke to the warm sun shining on on his face. He smiled to himself, almost forgetting about the events of lastnight. But how could he? They left no mess, but he couldn't forget it even if he wanted to—which he did. 

He shot up and looked around. They left.

Bilbo removed himself from his sheets and searched his hole, but to his relief, found no one. It was a short lived relief. He was happy to have his quiet back, his chairs where they should be and plates clean. But he felt empty somehow, knowing he'd never get an opportunity like this again, not in his lifetime. This was a chance to see the world, see things that didn't exist inside The Shire. 

Bilbo sat down. Would he go? He wanted to, and it was all too clear then. The Took in him rose up, and he craved it, craved to see the mountains and valleys and to have his own sword to fight with. The white, crinkly paper on the table caught in his peripheral vision, and, the next thing he knew, he was flying out his door and over fences to catch up with the company. He ran as fast as he could, dodging chickens and cows and waving off neighbors.

“Where ye' goin', Bilbo?” One asked.

“I'm going on an adventure! And I can't be late!” He yelled.

 

-

 

It was all of five minutes until he saw a horde of ponies. Bilbo started waving, contract in hand and yelled. “Wait! Wait! I signed it!” Once he got close enough, and gasping for air, he handed it to Balin, who gladly received it and read it over. Bilbo looked over the lot, some seemed disappointed and other's happy, and one in particular was hard for him to read. Thorin stared at him, like he normally would, with no visible emotion.

“Everything appears to be in order.” Balin lowered his double spectacle and smiled at Bilbo. “Welcome to the company of Thorin Oakenshield!”

Bilbo smiled big, looking through the lot again and back to Thorin, and Gandalf, who smiled endearingly at him. 

“Give him a pony.” Thorin turned and everyone started moving. 

“Oh, no, that won't be necessa-Ah!” Bilbo yelped as he was lifted onto one regardless, and sat there rather uncomfortably. Hobbits liked to walk, loved it actually and were not fond of riding horses and ponies. They had feet for a reason!

But there, his journey began and he knew it would change him, whether for the better or worst, was still unknown to him.

 

-

Bilbo's back was sore and the cold, hard ground didn't help very much at all. Most nights were like this, and if they weren't sleeping on hard gravel, they were sleeping on cold dirt. The latter was softer, at least. Only a week had passed since he'd left home, and a few of the dwarves were friendly enough. Fili, Kili and Bofur were a few he'd talked a lot with since their journey began. Thorin often sent him and his nephews out for wood or things like that. Bofur kept watch a lot, and when Bilbo couldn't sleep he'd stay up and talk with him. He was the most understanding of all of the dwarves. He even occasionally talked about his life at home in the Blue Mountains. Bofur had a lot of stories, and Bilbo had a lot of time, and they bonded over the next few weeks, and soon most of the other dwarves were to follow.

Bilbo found Ori to be a quiet, kindred spirit—very unusual for a dwarf. All he knew was he had a knack for drawing, and he was quite good at it too. He even drew a picture of Mertle, Bilbo's pony, for him. 

Gloin and Oin were nice enough, Oin more so than Gloin. Although, Gloin loved talking about his wife and son, Gimli. He loved them dearly, even got emotional a time or two. Oin was more of a talker than a listener, considering he couldn't hear very well, even with his make shift hearing aid. 

Bombur didn't really talk at all, he was either eating or cooking, or busy in some way so just sitting around with him was enough, Bilbo thought. Bifur was about the same, he didn't talk much, and if he did it was in Khuzdul and Bilbo just sat and listened to his rants. 

Everyone liked Bilbo, as it turned out, even Dwalin somewhat. He was one Bilbo never really talked to, but he could tell from when they first met, he was less hostile towards the hobbit.

Then there was the leader of their company. Bilbo was aware the dwarf wasn't fond of him, painfully aware. Thorin made it clear from day one that he didn't deem Bilbo's presence necessary. He had still yet to warm up, and Bilbo thought that thinking he ever would was wishful thinking. He'd have to make do with everyone elses company and friendship, and make do he would because he didn't for a minute ever stop and wonder why Thorin disliked him so much. He was never, ever curious why. 

Curiosity wouldn't help his back, however. So Bilbo turned around, huddled together between Fili and Kili, who were both fast asleep. He was the only one out of the company that wasn't used to the cold and sleeping on the cold, hard ground. He grew accustomed to his soft bed and warm hobbit hole. He sighed, and soon drifted off to sleep.

The next morning they were off, and Bilbo was sluggish behind the rest on his pony, Mertle. He wasn't quite used to this routine yet, getting up without as much as a cup of tea to soothe his grumbling stomach. They only ate once a day, twice if they were lucky. The days dragged on, so it was as unbearable as Bilbo imagined it would be. It wasn't until dark that they stopped in a small, secluded area to sleep. A lot more comfortable to sleep on, but Bilbo still felt homesick. 

The days were the same, the routine the same and it took it's toll on the hobbit. He didn't let it show, though. He smiled and laughed with the others, but felt weak from being so unaccustomed to their ways. 

He was more than grateful when Thorin decided against moving forward—like Gandalf suggested, and to just take up camp so Bombur could go ahead and get supper ready and they could all get some well needed rest. They were all fixing their bowls, and Bofur handed him two bowls. “Take these to he lads, will ya?” And Bilbo took them, nodding. He went and found the brothers by the ponies.

“Eat up, boys.” Bilbo said, standing between them. Neither moved, they only stared off into the lot of ponies, eyes wide and mouths agape. 

“Something the matter?”

“We were.... supposed to be looking after the ponies.” Kili said. “Only we've encountered a... slight problem...” Fili added.

“And what's that?” Bilbo worried, looking through the ponies and back at the two.

“We had sixteen.”

“Now there's.... fourteen.” Kili finished.

Fili and Kili ran off to check which ponies had gone missing, and Bilbo followed closely behind, being careful not to spill their food. Kili looked them all over, mumbling names and counting on his fingers.

“We're missing Daisy and Bungo.” He sighed, and Fili shook his head. “Uncle's going to kill us.”

“Don't you think we should tell Thorin?” 

“Eh... no, we better not. No use in worrying 'em.” Fili said, and Kili silently agreed with a nod of his head. “As our official burglar, we thought you might like to look into it.” 

Bilbo shot a look at Fili of disbelief. “I, well- it was obviously something... big.” He said, looking over the broken tree stump.

“Aye. That's what we thought.” Fili observed the stump, as did Kili. 

“Something possibly quite dangerous...” Bilbo shuddered at the thought of what it might be. As a hobbit, he'd only heard stories of the things that lurked out of The Shire. Nothing ever wandered into the hobbit's villages. 

“Like what, do you think, Mister Boggins?” Kili's eyes widened, and Fili quickly shushed them both. “There's something over there.” He whispered, and waved a hand for them to follow behind as he crouched down and moved ahead.

Bilbo hunched over, moving quietly behind Kili until they stopped behind two large trees. 

“Trolls.” Kili growled, and Bilbo was suddenly mortified. “Trolls?” He whispered. And the two ran off again, to get closer, he assumed, so he followed. As he was running to catch up, a troll moved past him with two ponies tucked underneath his arms. He noticed one was his pony, Mertle and grumbled to himself. Not his Mertle! The poor girl. And he had Mindy too!

“He's got Mertle and Mindy!” He whispered. “We have to do something.” He started to hand the bowls of food to Kili. “They're going to eat them if we don't!” And the two dwarves looked at him.

“Yes, you're right!” Kili said, grabbing the bowls. “You should,” He shoved the hobbit over. “Mountain trolls are stupid and slow, and you're so small, they'll never see you!” 

“Me? No, no, no.” Bilbo wagged a finger. 

“It's perfectly safe! We'll be right behind you, I promise.” And to this, Fili nodded. “If you run into trouble, hoot twice like a barn owl and once like a brown owl.” And Fili pushed him ahead.

“Once like a barn owl...twice like a br-... barn.. what?” And he looked back, hoping to ask Fili to repeat what it was he told him to do, but before he even had a chance to ask, the two were gone, nowhere in sight. He cursed, sighing to himself. “Can't count on them for a thing.” 

Bilbo sucked in a deep breath, and crouched low before moving around the bunch of trees that surrounded the trolls, to head straight over to where they kept the ponies. He was met with the excitement of his pony, Mertle, who, to his fear, wouldn't stop making noises and stomping around. One troll ended up coming over and rattling the gate, but went back down to sit. Bilbo didn't know how he was to go about releasing the ponies. The knot was tied too tight for him to undo, and there was no other way to open the gate. 

“Sh.” He hushed them when they got loud. Bilbo looked around, looking for a sharp stone, maybe, to cut through the rope. But with it so dark, he could barely make out the grass on the ground, let alone find a specific kind of rock. 

And then he saw it. A sharp skinning knife hanging in one of the trolls belts. It took a minute or two to calm himself down long enough to quietly move behind the troll and fiddle around with the large knife—it was nearly as big as he was!

Bilbo almost had it, until the troll stood up to scratch his bum. Bilbo grumbled quietly too himself, and when the troll sat back down, he eyed the knife. It was too big for him to pull out, he wouldn't be able to. But the ponies would be dinner in less than an hour if he didn't hurry, so he grabbed the dirty and worn hilt of the curved knife and went to pull at it, until a large hand flew back and grabbed him. It was his first time being mistaken for a handkerchief, and hopefully his last. He was covered in troll snot, and the urge to vomit was there, underneath the bone chilling fear as the three trolls stared at him in horror. 

“What's come out o' me ooter! It's got arms and legs and everything!” The one troll, holding him said and tossed him onto the ground. 

“Can we eat it?” Another troll asked, and Bilbo ran away to stand against a tree. “Stay back!”

The trolls ran towards him, and he dodged every hand that grabbed at him until he tripped over a stick and he was picked up by his ankles, dangling back and forth. “

It wasn't a second later that Kili ran into the clearing, slashing his sword back and forth at the underside of the troll's legs until it fell over, grabbing at it's wounds. 

“Drop him!” Kili yelled.

“You what!” 

“I said... drop him.” Kili stood his ground, and Bilbo hoped the boy wasn't dumb enough to not bring reinforcements. Thankfully, his worries were put to rest when the rest of the company gathered into the clearing, weapons ready and all of them dropped into battle stances. Only Gandalf was missing, but Bilbo did overhear him and Thorin having a spat and saw the wizard wander off. He'd hoped he didn't leave them for good. 

The troll growled, but threw Bilbo straight into Kili, knocking them both over. 

The fight didn't last very long, not when Bilbo had successfully stolen the knife he was eying before he got caught, and was caught once again releasing the ponies by two of the trolls that now held him by all his limbs, threatening to tear them off if the dwarves didn't throw down their weapons.

The dwarves didn't yield at first, and as a second warning, one of the trolls got a knife out and slashed it across one of Bilbo's arms. He yelled in pain, and when the knife was held to his neck, the dwarves didn't need another warning. Thorin was the first to throw his sword down. Bilbo stared in awe as everyone followed suit, dropping their weapons. He caught the look Thorin gave him—it was almost of worry, he thought, but knew better than to think so well of the dwarf. 

The next thing he knew, they were all tied up except for him. No, the trolls had a stone near by, scraping their knife against it, sharpening it he assumed. 

“Don't skin 'em! He'll be no more then a mouthful if ya do!”

“Shu'up! We ain't got enough time to be spattin' with the lot of ya'!” 

Bilbo was being held by one of them, the one that had sneezed on him, he thought, but they all looked about the same. The blood loss must have been getting to him.

Thankfully with perfect timing, Gandalf had stepped up onto a large rock, and the trolls all at once turned to look. “What is tha?” One asked. “I dunno, can we eat it too?” And before they even had a chance to move, Gandalf stamped his staff into the rock, splitting it in two and revealing the bright sun, turning the trolls to stone. The one dropped him just in time, and he cried out when he landed on the ground. His arm was covered in blood, some dry and some wet. 

All the others were out of their sacks and by his side as soon as they could get onto their feet. 

Kili yelled. “Uncle! Bilbo's badly injured!” And it wasn't even a second later until the young dwarf was pushed out of the way and replaced by Thorin kneeling beside Bilbo. He looked angered, almost bothered and Bilbo turned away. The last thing he needed was to hear more of his insults about how useless he was and how he never should have come.

“We need to get him back to camp.” Thorin leaned in, and Bilbo flinched when hands grabbed him and started lifting him up. He winced at the pain in his arm. “What do you think you're doing?” 

Thorin almost looked offended, but swooped the hobbit up into his arms regardless. “Would you rather bleed to your death?”

“Would you?” He spat back, and the look, the look he got was … what was it?

Thorin looked ahead, body suddenly tense and everyone turned silent.

They were all back at camp, and Thorin laid Bilbo down on his pallet, waving Ori and Dori over. “Disinfect and wrap his wound.” He said, and when the two rummaged through their bags for ointment and gauze, Thorin walked off without another word.

“Don't let him get to ya', lad.” Bofur said from behind him. “It's nothin' personal, really.” 

Bilbo could have laughed, if he wasn't so put off and in great amounts of pain. “Not.. personal?” He repeated. “He's been giving me dirty looks ever since he stepped foot into my home.” He mumbled.

Bofur sighed a deep sigh, resting a hand on Bilbo's shoulder. “Like I said, Bilbo—nothin' personal. He's got a tough skin, but he's a softy underneath it all.”

Bilbo wondered just what he meant by that, but ignored it and let the words linger. He thought on them for the next two days that passed that he did nothing but lay around because of his injury. Thorin had instructed the others to keep watch over him, and that on the third day, they'd be off. 

 

-

 

He had just laid down to get some well needed shut eye, it hadn't been even a half an hour when Bilbo was awoken by Kili shaking him by the shoulder—his well one, until he got up. “What is it?” 

“Enemies are near by, Mister Boggins!” Was all he said, when Bilbo was picked up and thrown over the dwarf's shoulder. 

“What?!” Bilbo cried.

“Orcs.” Kili said as he made his way through their camp. A few of the dwarves that had come back with Bilbo were picking up camp, and followed closely behind him and Kili until they met up with the others. “A wizard friend of Gandalf's ran a few away, but he's waiting for us near a hidden cave. We've got to hurry!” 

They made it through the orcs unscathed—the dwarves had a little trouble fighting off the few that ran off Radagast's trail. 

“Come on, this way you fools!” Gandalf bellowed, and they all followed him into the secluded area. There was a hole there, a secret passage way almost. They jumped down, one by one, until they were all counted over by their wizard. “Ten... Twelve, Thirteen. And our hobbit.”

“How is his wound?” Thorin walked up, and Kili lowered Bilbo onto his feet, who looked up at Thorin. 

“It's fine.” Bilbo said, despite his favoring of his wounded arm being more than obvious to the dwarf. 

Thorin looked back to Gandalf. “Where are we headed?” To which the wizard didn't immediately answer, and Dwalin was already following through the path. Everyone followed behind, and despite Kili protested that Bilbo shouldn't be moving, Bilbo waved him off. “I can walk just fine.” He said, and hadn't noticed, as they walked through the narrow passage, how Thorin had peered back at him, eyes daunting and full of something unknown to him. Something he didn't end up noticing the look of worry in the dwarves eyes, not that he would have deemed it genuine in the first place.

“Oh, Bilbo.” Gandalf cleared his throat, quickly digging back into his satchel, and pulling out a dagger. He handed it to the hobbit, who stopped and hesitated to grab it, but did and upon doing so, eyed it's undeniable beauty. “We found it in the troll's cave.” Gandalf explained, and Bilbo's eyebrows rose in response as he went over it, even unsheathing it. “It's of elvish make. Which means when goblins or orcs are near by, it will glow blue.” 

“It's a bit late for that, don't you think?” Bilbo joked, and Gandalf laughed. It sounded useful in more ways than one, and Bilbo was grateful. “Thank you.” He said, genuinely, and sheathed it. “Gandalf, I'm sure it's no surprise to that I don't know how to wield a weapon.” He admitted, looking down, holding the dagger in his hands, fingers tightening around the hilt as he picked up walking behind the others.

“And I hope, Bilbo, that you never have to. But if you do, remember this; true courage is not knowing when to take a life, but when to spare one.” Bilbo stared at the dagger, and breathed out all the air he was holding in, and when he looked up and saw that the dwarves stopped, he stopped as well, peering over them to see what had happened.

“It's...” 

“Rivendell.” Gandalf said, and Bilbo reveled in it's magnificence. It was more beautiful than he'd ever imagined, more spectacular than any drawing he'd seen or story he'd been told. He would probably be one of very few hobbits that got to venture this far and see this kind of beauty, so he took it in while he could. It didn't prove to last very long, after all. 

Thorin now stood by the wizard. “This was your plan all along? To seek refuge with our enemy.” 

“You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill will to be found in this valley is that of which you bring yourself.”

“You think the elves will give our quest their blessing?” Thorin spat. “They will try to stop us.”

“Of course they will.” Gandalf agreed. “But we have questions that need to be answered.” And Bilbo watched as Thorin's previously hard expression turned into defeat in it's purest form. The dwarf looked down without another word. And for a moment, Bilbo felt sorry for him. He understood from the beginning that they were all without their rightful home, even Thorin, who up until now showed practically one emotion—anger. But in that one look, he felt as though he saw who he was in a mere split of a second, and then, one thing after the other, all of them, all fifteen of them had met the elves. They were rather polite, and he knew that most of the dwarves weren't fond of them, but didn't really know why. 

They were invited to eat, it turns out, and Bilbo enjoyed himself. The dwarves ruined the elves dining quarters just like they'd done to his home, which came as no surprise to him when a food fight broke out. 

Bilbo wanted to look around if they were to stay here for a few days, take in the sights and take a well needed bath. He stunk of sweat and of dwarves—dirty dwarves to be exact, and it wasn't a pleasant smell. Everyone was around the fire, it was dark already and Bilbo had had enough of loud dwarf gatherings for one night. An elf maiden ended up showing him the way to their bathing quarters inside—it was almost like an indoor hot spring, and Bilbo could already feel the hot water soothing his muscles. 

He was eager to strip off his clothes he hadn't noticed the body half engulfed by the water. Thorin was asleep, it seemed—odd for him considering his great distrust with the elves.

Bilbo looked around awkwardly before wondering if maybe he should just leave and come back when it wasn't being occupied. It was Thorin after all and he was Bilbo and he knew it just wasn't the best idea to..

“Did you come in to simply look at the water?” The deep voice rang, and Bilbo jumped. “Or were you going to get in?”

“Oh, uh.” He cleared his throat and grabbed his dagger, leaning down to place it on the ground. “Get in, yeah.” Bilbo started to undress himself, but couldn't bring his fingers to properly undo the buttons of his shirt. “On second thought.” Bilbo stopped. “I'll just come back, no point in crowding the bath.”

“There's plenty of room, hobbit.”

There was plenty of room, he was right. So much room. The baths were huge, really. Bilbo stared at the huge body of water, and his eyes regretfully stopped on the dwarf. Thorin's arms were propped on the ground behind him, and his hair was dripping wet onto said floor. His chest was wet too, and muscular—he didn't know why he was looking at him, or noticing these things. So he stopped, or rather, forced himself to look away before there'd be a problem to a situation he didn't previously take notice to or had any reason to believe was ever there.

Bilbo, despite his natural shyness, undressed himself and stepped into the bath. The hot water soothed his muscles and his limbs and he didn't mean to moan at the blissful hot to his aching body, but he did, and it was done. He was scared to look anywhere but down, so he kept with it. It worked for him.

If he would have looked up, he would have noticed the studying eyes on him, but the water itself was fascinating enough, no need to go and ruin that.

“How is your arm?” 

“My arm?” Bilbo's head shot up so fast, as if having it down kept him from breathing. “Oh, yes. It's better, much better. Still in quite a lot of pain, but the ointment Dori put on it made it look a lot less menacingly disgusting.” He looked down at the white bandage on his upper arm—the wound was placed on the inner arm, moving down into his armpit and starting from his elbow. It was deep, and hurt a lot if he moved it, but the throbbing passed a few hours ago. 

Thorin made a noise that sounded dangerously similar to a laugh, maybe more of a chuckle and Bilbo wouldn't have believed his ears if he hadn't looked up to see the dwarf's usually stoic expression dissolve into a soft, crooked smile that warmed him from the inside out. 

“You're laughing.” Bilbo shifted in the water. “You laughed. I made you laugh.” He was surprised, and anyone listening to him could surely tell it by his voice, let alone his wide eyes and half smile.

“What of it?” He questioned. “Should I not?” 

“No! I mean, you should—it suits you better than scowling all day long.”

“I do not scowl.” Thorin protested.

Bilbo scoffed to himself. “You do.” He mumbled, and from looking to the water he came eye to eye with Thorin. “Can I ask you something?”

“If you'd like.”

“Why do you hate me so much?” Bilbo asked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and remember, comments and kudos (mainly comments) fuel me to write, so keep them coming!


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